Sunday, January 19, 2014

Cold fried chicken and potato salad

Cancer is a
journey, that’s what they tell you. When they tell you anything at all. In the
past year of my mom’s illness, I’ve learned a lot of things, but it mostly
comes down to this ~ cancer sucks. Even in these precious cancer-free months,
it’s pretty clear that life will not go back to the before, the lunches and
shopping trips, the big family dinners and small vacations. They’re gone,
replaced by counters of pill bottles and corners filled with medical supplies,
a calendar filled with doctor appointments.

How did we
get here, I ask myself in low moments. A summer of feeling lousy, the initial
doctor visits and tests. On an oppressively hot and humid August day, Mom gave
me the heads up and told me she would call after her meeting with the doctor.
While she was out, on my break from work, I ran to the store, picked up a wrapped
bouquet of bright pink Gerbera daisies and brought it to her house, just around
the corner from my office. In the quiet, dark house, I knew that if I sat down,
I would bawl my eyeballs out. But I had to face the folks at work, so I reached
onto the top cabinet for the pretty blue pitcher. It was dusty. There is never
dust in my parents’ house. They have vacuumed, swept, bleached and polished
every square inch of this home for 37 years. If there was a smidge of dirt, it
was because someone wasn’t able to reach to the top shelf . I guess I knew mom
hadn’t felt good that summer.

I left the
flowers. Later, Mom called while I was waiting with my girls at their dentist
appointments. Because bad news kind of doubles up that way. Yes, it was cancer.
And we would get through this. And please don’t cry, Lucy.

* * *

Roses. Laura Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

When I think
about the house I grew up in, about the comforts of home, there’s an intense
longing to look inside the refrigerator. There was always something good in
there. The pantry was handy, too, but we didn’t keep a lot of chips and snacks
on hand. The Harvest Gold refrigerator held Tupperware containers of chicken salad, potato salad, tuna salad, pasta
salad, usually mayonnaise based, the eggy spread being something of a religion
in our family. Not that we were partial to any one brand. We were polytheistic
in that way.

I always
knew that I could come home from work or school late at night, open the
refrigerator and find a picnic in plastic. Even in the darkest days of winter,
cold fried chicken and potato salad would be so sweet. If it was late, I’d fix
a bowlful, creep upstairs to my room, read a book and nibble.

This is my
emotions eating, what the Germans call kummerspeck, appropriate for this great
granddaughter of German immigrants Otto and Wilhemina . Kummerspeck is literally,
“grief bacon,” I truly understand this. And so at my house in 2014, I make a
big bowl of potato salad, divide it between my 1990s powder blue Tupperware bowls, save one
for Mom and one for those late night cravings.

Cold fried chicken and
potato salad

As you will
see, these are not really recipes. This is the way I learned to make these two
dishes, without real measurements, just following along at mom’s apron strings.

Potato salad

Take three
pounds large red potatoes, peel and dice them into ½ inch pieces. Put a pot of
water on to boil, add a teaspoon or so of salt, then boil the potatoes for
about 15 minutes or until tender when tested with the tip of a knife.

Hard boil
three eggs. Place a steamer basket inside a pot, place the eggs on the basket,
cover them with water, then set to boil. When it’s bubbling away, cover the
pan, turn off the heat and set the timer for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, pour
out the hot water, add cold water and ice and let the eggs chill. After a few
minutes, peel and slice the eggs.

In a large
mixing bowl, add a ½ medium sweet onion, finely chopped; 3 stalks celery,
diced; the potatoes and eggs. Stir in mayonnaise. Begin with about a cup of
mayo. Add a squidge of Dijon mustard. Season with salt and pepper to taste,
remembering that some brands of mayo can be quite salty.

Place in
your finest Tupperware and then in the fridge.

Fried Chicken

I like to
use dark meat and I start with a buttermilk brine. I usually buy a small
package of legs and a small package of thighs, but this method can be easily
adapted to larger quantities of meat.

1.Place chicken pieces in buttermilk to
cover in a Tupperware container and let soak for a few hours or overnight in
the refrigerator.

2.Season flour with salt, black pepper,
onion powder, granulated garlic. Lawry’s seasoning salt is optional, but an
essential flavor of my childhood. Dredge chicken pieces in flour and let sit on
a plate or tray while the oil is heating up.

3.Heat oil in Dutch oven on cooktop. I
use a combination of vegetable oil and leftover bacon grease, if I have it.
Olive oil will do, but is best in combination with vegetable oil, due to its
low smoke point.

4.Fry chicken, being careful not to
crowd the pan, and adjusting the heat when adding pieces. Cover the pan while
the pieces are cooking, and flip after about 5 minutes. Drain chicken on paper
towels.

Place any
leftovers in your best Tupperware.

This story
is part of #LetsLunch, a monthly Twitter party. This month’s topic is
Kummerspeck, or grief bacon, the comforts of food in times of great grief. Take
a few minutes and explore the world of kummerspeck with the tasty offerings of
this talented group of writers: